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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26735851">A whole new world</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tennis RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, French Husbands showing Sascha a whole new world, Hair Kink, M/M, OR IS IT, Pierre is irresistable, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Roland Garros, Sascha is weak, Smut, Threesome, what have i just written</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:13:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,065</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26735851</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sascha walks in on Pierre and Nicolas after defeating Pierre in the second round of Roland Garros.<br/>Smut ensues.</p><p>***<br/>really, idek anymore</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pierre-Hugues Herbert/Nicolas Mahut, Pierre-Hugues Herbert/Nicolas Mahut/Alexander Zverev</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A whole new world</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'll just leave this here.<br/>No comment.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sascha still feels the adrenaline flooding his body, although it has been about 45 minutes now since he has won that hell of a five-setter to make it to the third round of Roland Garros.<br/>He feels relieved, mostly, but also exhausted – which his body feels while his brain hasn’t yet fully caught up on that.</p><p>He is aware that he had been <em>this close</em> to going out in the second round today and whilst he had expected that playing Pierre would be hard, knowing the Frenchman’s play would make it hard for him to find a rhythm, he had not been prepared for the way the older man had made him go crazy on that court.</p><p>So right now, there is a wide grin plastered on his face and he has to shake his head in disbelief, thinking back of all the drop shots Pierre has played today.<br/>He runs a hand through his damp hair, still wet from the shower he has just taken, and thinks about what he will say at the press conference coming up.</p><p>He is a bit worried that he won’t be able to get out a straight sentence, when the points of the match are still playing on his mind.<br/>It is not just the stops and double faults and missed break points that are repeating themselves all over again, though.<br/>With tingling skin, he remembers how he had lost his concentration not one but <em>plenty</em> of times, whenever he had looked over at the other side of the net.<br/>He had been forced to abort the ball-throwing several times because that image of Pierre and his <em>goddamn</em> man bun on top of his head had erased every match plan he had ever formed on his mind.</p><p>He draws in his bottom lip, feeling heat rush through his body all over again, despite the shower he has just taken. Rolling his eyes at himself, he pushes open the door to the shared locker room, ready to pick up his remaining items.<br/>The second the room opens up in front of him, his hand freezes on the handle.</p><p>He <em>hears</em> what is going on before his brain <em>understands</em> what it is that he is looking at; a moan so soft that it makes Sascha’s skin tingle immediately, making blood rush to his face.</p><p>It is a moan as delicate and gentle as the first ray of sunshine after weeks of rain and Sascha is paralyzed where he is standing, looking at the way Pierre has arched his back.</p><p>He hears a loud bang that makes him flinch and it takes him a couple of seconds to realize that it is him that has made that sound, his bag dropping to the ground.<br/>Pierre, on the other hand, does not seem to hear it though, and there is another soft moan echoing in the locker room.</p><p>Sascha’s brain finally seems to catch up with what he is seeing, his gaze wandering over the way Pierre is entangled with another man that he just <em>knows</em> is Nicolas Mahut, even though he cannot see his face. Pierre is sitting on his lap and the sound of Sascha’s bag must have startled the older Frenchman, for his face now appears, causing his and Sascha’s glances to meet.</p><p>Sascha’s eyes go wide, while his throat feels dry, and he wants to move, wants to head back out and pretend he has never seen this, but he is paralyzed and unable to move.<br/>And when Nicolas doesn’t do anything but fucking smile at him over Pierre’s shoulder, his grin goes straight to Sascha’s dick.</p><p>“We thought you were gone already,” the older Frenchman says, his accent heavy and his voice a bit breathless, and Pierre suddenly flinches, only now realizing that they are not alone anymore.</p><p>“Qui?” he asks and Sascha hears Nicolas Mahut mumble “<em>Alexander</em>”, only it does not sound like his name at all, but like the French version of it, and it makes him feel like someone has set his skin on fire.</p><p>Pierre lets his head fall back, looking at Sascha, and the German can see his flushed face now, can see his graceful neck and the way his lips are of a dark red colour now. He is still wearing the hair tie keeping his bun up, the rest of his dark hair curling against his neck.<br/>He looks soft and delicate and <em>fucked</em> and Sascha exhales a shaky breath, staring at the man he has just beaten an hour ago.</p><p>Pierre is so beautiful it hurts and he has gotten rid of his clothes, or maybe Nicolas had done that, and Sascha can’t help but let his eyes trail down Pierre’s back. The French has wrapped his legs around Nicolas’ waist and a part of him can’t believe what he is seeing, can’t believe how unbothered both of them look at the fact that he has just walked in on them.</p><p>His eyes come up to meet Pierre’s gaze again, who is still looking at him, and then Pierre tilts his head a little, biting down on his lip in the most tempting way possible.<br/>The other player has been driving him insane all day, with his pretty hair and his pretty face, with those noises he makes under pressure and it had made Sascha wonder what Pierre sounds like when he comes.</p><p>Pierre and Nicolas exchange a few words in French and Sascha can’t pick up on it, but Nicolas keeps smiling at him in that way which makes his insides tingle.<br/>And then Nicolas moves his hips up a little and Pierre makes that sound again, that soft and panting moan that leaves Sascha breathless and hard and helpless.</p><p>“Kommst du?” Pierre suddenly asks in perfect German and Sascha gapes, while he is pretty sure that he is looking like an idiot.<br/>“Schließ ab,” Pierre commands and he has turned his head, now hiding his face away in the crook of Nicolas’ neck.</p><p>Sascha hesitates, his cheeks on fire and body flushed with heat, but once he starts walking, he can’t stop until he’s standing right in front of the two.</p><p>Nicolas looks at him, his eyes dropping to the obvious bulge in his sweatpants, and the French smirks, pointing at the bench next to him.<br/>Sascha obeys and sit down, with his heart beating in his throat, and Pierre stops nibbling on Nicolas’ skin, glancing over at him.</p><p>“What do you want to do?” Pierre asks, in English this time, and his voice is broken around the edges, breathless in its tone.<br/>Sascha wets his lips, unsure if his voice is to be trusted, and he clears his throat with a cough.<br/>“C-can I t-touch you?” he stumbles over his own words and his cheeks heat up a little more, but it draws a soft chuckle from Pierre and Sascha thinks he looks adorable when he smiles.<br/>He seems to be glowing where he is slowly, almost teasingly, rubbing himself against Nicolas’ lap and he bites down on his flushed bottom lip, nodding.</p><p>“You’ve got to ask Nico,” he says then, in a low voice, blinking up at the older Frenchman with big brown eyes.<br/>Sascha swallows hard.<br/>“Can I touch him?” he repeats, his voice a bit steadier this time, and Nicolas gives him a look, without saying anything, before he eventually nods.</p><p>Pierre slowly slides off Nicolas’ lap and Sascha can’t do much but stare.<br/>He knew that Pierre is pretty, that he’s <em>beautiful</em>, but having him stand right in front of him, <em>naked</em>, is a bit much, even for him.<br/>The French just smiles at him, his face still flushed and his chest heaving quickly.</p><p>“What do you want to do?” Pierre asks again, his voice almost purring and Sascha’s breath is coming faster now.<br/>Goddamn it, the other man is breathtakingly beautiful and Sascha knows <em>exactly</em> what he wants to do and Pierre probably knows it just as well.<br/>“Sag es,” his opponent says, switching to German once again, and the sound of it goes straight to Sascha’s cock.</p><p>And Sascha has understood how this works, so he turns towards Nicolas sitting next to him.<br/>“Can I fuck him?”<br/>Nicolas chuckles at his question and probably also at his bluntness.<br/>“Aller de l'avant!” he eventually says and Pierre makes another one of these noises, the one that make Sascha lose his fucking mind.</p><p>“Strip,” Nicolas commands and for some reason, there is a tone in his voice that makes Sascha shut up and do just that, getting rid of his clothes under the attentive glance of the older player.<br/>Pierre gets hold of a wardrobe hook over Sascha’s head, holding onto it while he sits down on his lap.<br/>The German shivers when Pierre’s hard cock slides against his and he can’t help a low moan from dropping from his lips.</p><p>Pierre keeps his arms above his head, leaning forward until their chests are touching, and Sascha is surprised by how light the Frenchman is on him, seeming to weigh nothing at all.<br/>But Pierre then uses his body weight to roll his hips against Sascha’s and the German’s head falls back in pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut.</p><p>“Is he… is he prepared?” he asks, the question directed at Nicolas Mahut and he doesn’t bother to open his eyes when Pierre’s partner replies with a <em>Oui</em>.</p><p>He does open his eyes though, when he grabs his cock and directs it to Pierre’s entrance, wanting to see the look in the other man’s eyes when he enters him.<br/>And Pierre fixes him with his glance, lips flushed and parted, and when Sascha pushes into the other player, Pierre’s soft moan turns needy, filling the whole locker room.</p><p>And Sascha is pretty sure that he blacks out for a second, the adrenaline of winning a match now mixed with the overload of sensation that is Pierre’s tightness around his cock. His head falls back once again and he lets out a high-pitched whimper when Pierre starts nibbling on his neck, his wet mouth surely leaving marks that he will have to cover up for the press conference later.</p><p>But he could not care less about that at the moment, not when Pierre moves his hips, causing his erection to slide against Sascha’s toned stomach.<br/>“Still,” he commands, getting a grip on Pierre’s small waist and holding it in place. Pierre whimpers and bites down on the crook of his neck, but Sascha does not give in, pushing deeper into the other man.</p><p>His cock is throbbing inside of Pierre and he draws back out almost completely, only to slam back in a second later. He hears that Nicolas has started stroking himself, the sound of it mixing with the sound of flesh against flesh, each time that Sascha’s hips snap up, burying his cock deeper in Pierre.</p><p>He feels how he loses control over the situation, unable to hold Pierre in place any longer, and the second he lets go of the Frenchman’s waist, Pierre starts moving again, riding him and changing the angle so that Sascha pushes in just a little deeper. And Sascha buries his hands in Pierre’s hair, ruining the bun on top of his head, while he curls his fingers around the older one’s locks. The sensation pushes him closer to the edge, closer to that feeling of falling.</p><p>It makes Pierre moan into Sascha’s ears and he just can’t keep it together any longer, thrusting into Pierre as deep as he can, with the other man bouncing on top of him.<br/>He pulls back out one last time, panting heavily, before he thrusts back in, his hips buckling up, when he buries himself deep in Pierre and comes inside of him.</p><p>Pierre keeps riding him throughout his orgasm and he feels him spill his seed against his stomach, grabbing his shoulder so tightly that it will surely leave bruises.<br/>Sascha places his hand on Pierre’s ass, feeling his skin and moving inside of him one last time, while he’s feeling completely boneless in his afterglow.</p><p>Pierre is breathing into his ear, still catching his breath, and he feels him smile against his skin.<br/>“Do you bottom, too? I think Nico needs a shower,” he whispers quietly, and Sascha can’t help but let out a helpless moan at the thought.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>eye-</p><p>i couldn't help it. I have nothing to say in my defense.<br/>(Also no idea why I made Sascha top here, I guess PHH just radiates too much bottom energy, gfhdj)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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